Strangers in tavernd
by Gingerninjaunicorn
Summary: Tom Riddle meets a mysterious man in a greatcoat, in a tavern. Random and pointless, slash but nothing graphic.


**Summary: Tom Riddle meets a man in a greatcoat, in a tavern. Oneshot, first in a series, slash but noting graphic.**

**Disclaimer: As much as I'd like to, I don't own Harry Potter or Torchwood.**

**X**

Tom can feel the man's eyes on him from the second he enters the tavern. Tom is used to eyes following him wherever he goes, from strangers to friends to lovers whose hearts he had broken, and for once he returns the gaze.  
The man was tall and extremely handsome, clad in one of those muggle military coats that nearly fit in the wizarding world, his hair falling gracefully across his forehead, blue eyes searching out Tom's hazel ones, a million dollar, heart-breaking smile showing off white teeth, and Tom knew that smile because it was one he himself wore: a dangerous, heartbreaking smile.  
Tom smirked and raised one eyebrow, as if to say, _are you going to stare all night or are you going to come over? _And the man seemed to take that as an invitation, sliding out of his seat and joining Tom at the bar.  
"What are you drinking, handsome?" asks the man in an American accent, eyeing up the young wizard without an ounce of shame.  
"Are you asking or offering?" Tom replied, raking his eyes down the American's body with interest. Oh, he had made the right decision to come out into the muggle world tonight.  
"Whichever you want me to," was the reply, and Tom waved over the bartender and said offhandedly, "I'll take the strongest thing you've got, and it's on him."  
"Haven't seem you around before," the American purred once the bartender had racked off. "And I think I'd remember a face as pretty as yours."  
"I'm not from around here," Tom responded. "Hence the lack of a Welsh accent."  
"I noticed. English, right?"  
"Right. And yourself, American?"  
"You could say that. Captain Jack Harkness, at your service."  
"Tom Riddle. I serve no one but myself."  
"Smart man. So, Tom Riddle, what brings you to Wales?"  
"World domination," replied Tom offhandedly, and honestly. 'Captain' Jack Harkness laughed, taking a swig of the glass of amber liquid he'd brought with him from his lonely table, glancing at Tom from behind the glass.  
"Me, too," the captain said, "only I'm here to _stop _it. You've never heard of some bloke called 'Voldemort', have you?"  
"I'm afraid not," Tom lied easily. "Why, are you a policeman or something?"  
"Or something," responded Jack, "so, Tom Riddle, why is a handsome young man like yourself all alone in a dingy tavern. Haven't you got a woman to get back to?"  
"Women, men, non-human life forms, I've had plenty, but they all bore me, Captain," Tom replied. "And they only tend to get in the way of world domination."  
"A man after my own heart," said the Captain, a smirk flitting across his handsome face. "Tell me, Tom Riddle, what's your story? I'm curious."  
"There's not much to tell. I'm an orphan, raised in London, and as soon as I could I ran away to Wales where a pretty American started to chat me up in a bar."  
"Sounds…boring, to say the least," Jack replied, "but I like the part about the pretty American."  
"Me too," Tom confessed. "Well then, Captain, what's your story?"  
"Call me Jack, Tom."  
"_Jack_," purred Tom, his voice full of lust and greed, "tell me your story."  
"Wanna know a secret, Tom?" Jack asked, leaning forward and whispering in Tom's ear, his hot breath sending shivers up Tom's neck, "I don't have one."  
Tom's breathing was ragged by now, and the captain was tracing circles on his leg, hot fingers burning through the fabric of Tom's trousers.  
"Oh, you are a mystery," Tom hissed as the American's roaming fingers slid up his thigh. "I've always loved mysteries."  
"Would you care to step out with me, Mr Riddle?" asked the captain, and without even waiting for Tom's reply he slapped some notes onto the table and pulled Tom from his seat.  
"Are you asking or telling?" the wizard questioned, briefly catching sight of their reflections in the grubby mirror above the bar; the tanned, dashing American and the pale, classically handsome English wizard, and Tom could ignore the fact that whoever this man was he knew about his, Voldemort's, plans to conquer Wales, and was possible a wizard, and could possibly ruin everything because they looked so very good together.  
Jack led Tom from the tavern into the streets of Wales. The night was still only young, not even midnight yet, and yet the streets were practically deserted, as Jack pulled Tom into an alley way, shoved him against the concrete wall and kissed him.  
Tom smirked against the other man's lips, unable to deny he'd been waiting for this ever since the American had latched his eyes onto him, and kissed back with an eager passion as hands wandered and teeth clashed, tongues danced and hips rolled. Tom spun them around so he was in control, pinning Jack to the wall, the sound of both their needy moans and gasps filling the alley, and it wasn't until sometime later when both men, thoroughly satisfied, redressed and smirking wickedly to each other, that Tom slid his wand from his jacket and whispered, "_Avada Kadavra_."  
Captain Jack Harkness slumped down the alley way wall, stone dead, his blue eyes still wide open.  
"I'm so sorry, Jack," Tom whispered, bending down to place as kiss on Jack's lips. "But knowing too much is a dangerous business."  
And Tom Apparted away, leaving behind the dead body of Captain Jack Harkness, that gasped and opened its eyes as the man was resurrected.  
"Oh, hell," Jack muttered to the night. "That was a _good _shag. Except for the killing me part."  
Jack stood and adjusted his greatcoat, and strode off into the night to regretfully tell his bosses at Torchwood that he'd lost the threat they called 'Lord Voldemort'.

**A/N: Ok, so how was it? This idea has been swimming around in my head for a while, and I think I might do a series of oneshots in the HP/TW universe. Opinions?  
**-**GNU xx**


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